Jennifer was bleeding. Eight arms were embracing her. Embraces were accelerating.  It hurt. It was a hug and she was supposed to enjoy it. It was love with a capital L.

She was loved for enjoying it and she did enjoy it when she was loved.

Eight arms were an extension of her self. They were biology and its essence. They were it. The arms were covered with millions of vaginas.

-I am almost there. whispered Jennifer in her head.

She was blinded.

The pleasure drastically turned into dissatisfaction. Her skin felt hot, burning from pain and suffocation. She wanted to scream, but  that would break the spell. If she uttered the sound of pain the pain would materialize, it would become real, it would immediately turn on her.  She decided to remain silent. She  burned.

Now her silence was active. It was not a darkness like the darkness of the night that turns and twists into the unknown, from space to object, count after count to the infinite. The darkness that she conjured was thick as soot. Her darkness had no consequence and no beginning. She demanded the end. Total clearing.

– I am not what you think I am. Save me from the woman I’m not. Hold my hand and turn me inside out.  Peel me in half and look inside. What do you find? –

Inside of her they found a black cellar full of dust and a dead man.
The cellar shut. In the breach they remained.

The count of infinite turned back to zero.

Jennifer stopped bleeding.


About Voider

This entry was posted in The Carcass of History and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.